Show Me The Money!!!

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away I earned a decent paycheck.

I was an account manager/recruiter / human resources manager (whichever sounds more sophisticated to you) for a staffing agency.

I started out in the home office in Illinois as a secretary, transferred out to a satellite office in Portland, Oregon, and then was promoted to run our DirecTV Broadband account. I had approximately 300 temp-to-hire employees on site at DirecTV that I was responsible for. Pretty impressive, huh? I was the youngest person in that position, managing the largest account in the office. I had no college education - just on the job experience and short skirts. When I gave my notice that I was not returning after my maternity leave, I was offered the position of Branch Manager at age 22. I could even bring my baby with me to work.

I turned it down.

"Managing" all those employees meant drug testing, disciplining, interviewing, providing ergonomic equipment, overseeing medical leave and things of that nature. I've got a million hilarious stories, but this one I've been wanting to 'get off my chest'...

I had to approach an employee about not wearing a bra. Having never had the figure to dress in plunging necklines, I imagined that she'd be young and perky. I assumed I would walk in, take one look at her rack and say, "I don't blame you! I wouldn't want to keep weapons like those holstered, either!" Instead, I wind up at the cubicle of a graciously endowed woman three times my age who apparently not only disliked lingerie, but deodorant as well. Not at all what I expected.

There's a lot of red tape and risk management mumbo jumbo in human resources. Everything has to be documented, signed, dated and stamped. I actually had to type up a document stating, " (Employee 42DDD) agrees that she will wear supportive undergarments while on the premises of DirecTV Broadband. If (Employee 42DDD) fails to comply with this agreement, further disciplinary action will be taken in accordance with the policy on page ___ of the Employee Handbook."

As much as I miss getting a paycheck, I never miss having a job.

I had to perform drug tests on every employee who made it through the second phase of the hiring process. I've seen every shade of urine you can imagine, including purple, and I've heard every excuse why someone came up positive (Man, I never did anything! But last week I was standing next to some dude who was smoking weed at the bus stop. It wasn't me!) I've had to clean out desks of employees who were fired after coming back from a potty break 2 minutes late, I've spent hours on the phone contesting unemployment claims from people who, under different circumstances, I would have had over for dinner and drinks. I was there when just 2 weeks before Christmas, DirecTV laid off every single one of our employees with no notice.

I miss the bonuses, I miss the haughty self-importance, I miss the control - but I never miss the job. As the economy continues to squeeze us tighter and tighter, my prayer is always, "please, God! Don't put me in that position again!" I'd rather sweep floors, scrub toilets or ring up feminine hygiene products at a gas station at 2:00 am than go back to being in charge. Looking back, it amazes me how much I loved that job, and how much I would hate it now. That is the difference seven years at home makes. My priorities are right here. My attention isn't on a woman horrified by underwires - it's on my little girl horrified by the dark. My life doesn't revolve around the upcoming quarterly meeting - it revolves around the next Parent-Teacher conference.

There is no bonus, no corporate perk, no fancy dinner or company car that could entice me to quit my non-job. I'm telling you this so that when I'm picking my eye lashes out because Child B wants to talk incessantly about socks you can direct me to some inspiration.



(c) 2009, Kelsey Robbins